The Room of the Evil Thought

by Elia W. Peattie

　　

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THEY called it the room of the EvilThought. It was really the pleasantestroom in the house, andwhen the place had been used asthe rectory, was the minister's study. Itlooked out on a mournful clump of larches,such as may often be seen in the old-fashionedyards in Michigan, and these threw atender gloom over the apartment.There was a wide fireplace in the room,and it had been the young minister's habitto sit there hours and hours, staring ahead ofhim at the fire, and smoking moodily. Thereplenishing of the fire and of his pipe, itwas said, would afford him occupation allthe day long, and that was how it came aboutthat his parochial duties were neglected sothat, little by little, the people became dissatisfiedwith him, though he was an eloquentyoung man, who could send his congregationaway drunk on his influence. However, thecalmer pulsed among his parish began towhisper that it was indeed the influence ofthe young minister and not that of the HolyGhost which they felt, and it was finallydecided that neither animal magnetism norhypnotism were good substitutes for religion.And so they let him go.The new rector moved into a smart brickhouse on the other side of the church, andgave receptions and dinner parties, and waspunctilious about making his calls. Thepeople therefore liked him very much -- somuch that they raised the debt on the churchand bought a chime of bells, in their enthusiasm.Every one was lighter of heart thanunder the ministration of the previous rector.A burden appeared to be lifted from the community.True, there were a few who confessedthe new man did not give them thefood for thought which the old one had done,but, then, the former rector had made themuncomfortable! He had not only made themconscious of the sins of which they werealready guilty, but also of those for whichthey had the latent capacity. A strange andfatal man, whom women loved to their sorrow,and whom simple men could not understand!It was generally agreed that the parishwas well rid of him."He was a genius," said the people incommiseration. The word was an uncomplimentaryepithet with them.When the Hanscoms moved in the housewhich had been the old rectory, they gaveGrandma Hanscom the room with the fireplace.Grandma was well pleased. Theroaring fire warmed her heart as well as herchill old body, and she wept with weak joywhen she looked at the larches, because theyreminded her of the house she had lived inwhen she was first married. All the forenoonof the first day she was busy putting thingsaway in bureau drawers and closets, but byafternoon she was ready to sit down in herhigh-backed rocker and enjoy the comforts ofher room.She nodded a bit before the fire, as sheusually did after luncheon, and then sheawoke with an awful start and sat staringbefore her with such a look in her gentle,filmy old eyes as had never been there before.She did not move, except to rock slightly,and the Thought grew and grew till her facewas disguised as by some hideous mask oftragedy.By and by the children came pounding atthe door."Oh, grandma, let us in, please. Wewant to see your new room, and mammagave us some ginger cookies on a plate, andwe want to give some to you."The door gave way under their assaults, andthe three little ones stood peeping in, waitingfor permission to enter. But it did notseem to be their grandma -- their own deargrandma -- who arose and tottered towardthem in fierce haste, crying:"Away, away! Out of my sight! Out ofmy sight before I do the thing I want to do!Such a terrible thing! Send some one to mequick, children, children! Send some onequick!"They fled with feet shod with fear, andtheir mother came, and Grandma Hanscomsank down and clung about her skirts andsobbed:"Tie me, Miranda. Make me fast to thebed or the wall. Get some one to watch me.For I want to do an awful thing!"They put the trembling old creature in bed,and she raved there all the night long andcried out to be held, and to be kept fromdoing the fearful thing, whatever it was -- forshe never said what it was.The next morning some one suggested takingher in the sitting-room where she wouldbe with the family. So they laid her on thesofa, hemmed around with cushions, andbefore long she was her quiet self again,though exhausted, naturally, with the tumultof the previous night. Now and then, as thechildren played about her, a shadow creptover her face -- a shadow as of cold remembrance --and then the perplexed tearsfollowed.When she seemed as well as ever they puther back in her room. But though the fireglowed and the lamp burned, as soon as evershe was alone they heard her shrill cries ringingto them that the Evil Thought had comeagain. So Hal, who was home from college,carried her up to his room, whichshe seemed to like very well. Then he wentdown to have a smoke before grandma'sfire.The next morning he was absent from breakfast.They thought he might have gone foran early walk, and waited for him a few minutes.Then his sister went to the room thatlooked upon the larches, and found himdressed and pacing the floor with a face setand stern. He had not been in bed at all,as she saw at once. His eyes were bloodshot,his face stricken as if with old age or sin or-- but she could not make it out. When hesaw her he sank in a chair and covered hisface with his hands, and between the tremblingfingers she could see drops of perspiration onhis forehead."Hal!" she cried, "Hal, what is it?"But for answer he threw his arms about thelittle table and clung to it, and looked at herwith tortured eyes, in which she fancied shesaw a gleam of hate. She ran, screaming,from the room, and her father came and wentup to him and laid his hands on the boy'sshoulders. And then a fearful thing happened.All the family saw it. There couldbe no mistake. Hal's hands found their waywith frantic eagerness toward his father'sthroat as if they would choke him, and thelook in his eyes was so like a madman's thathis father raised his fist and felled him as heused to fell men years before in the collegefights, and then dragged him into the sittingroomand wept over him.By evening, however, Hal was all right, andthe family said it must have been a fever, --perhaps from overstudy, -- at which Hal covertlysmiled. But his father was still tooanxious about him to let him out of his sight,so he put him on a cot in his room, and thusit chanced that the mother and Grace concludedto sleep together downstairs.The two women made a sort of festival ofit, and drank little cups of chocolate beforethe fire, and undid and brushed their brownbraids, and smiled at each other, understandingly,with that sweet intuitive sympathywhich women have, and Grace told hermother a number of things which she hadbeen waiting for just such an auspicious occasionto confide.But the larches were noisy and cried outwith wild voices, and the flame of the firegrew blue and swirled about in the draughtsinuously, so that a chill crept upon the two.Something cold appeared to envelop them --such a chill as pleasure voyagers feel whena berg steals beyond Newfoundland andglows blue and threatening upon their oceanpath.Then came something else which was notcold, but hot as the flames of hell -- and theysaw red, and stared at each other with maddenedeyes, and then ran together from theroom and clasped in close embrace safebeyond the fatal place, and thanked Godthey had not done the thing that they darednot speak of -- the thing which suddenly cameto them to do.So they called it the room of the EvilThought. They could not account for it.They avoided the thought of it, being healthyand happy folk. But none entered it more.The door was locked.One day, Hal, reading the paper, cameacross a paragraph concerning the young ministerwho had once lived there, and who hadthought and written there and so influencedthe lives of those about him that they rememberedhim even while they disapproved."He cut a man's throat on board ship forAustralia," said he, "and then he cut his own,without fatal effect -- and jumped overboard,and so ended it. What a strange thing!"Then they all looked at one another withsubtle looks, and a shadow fell upon themand stayed the blood at their hearts.The next week the room of the Evil Thoughtwas pulled down to make way for a pansy bed,which is quite gay and innocent, and bloomsall the better because the larches, with theireternal murmuring, have been laid low andcarted away to the sawmill.

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